A week of consecutive nothing-to-fcking-wear moments in front of a seemingly abundant closet can lead to one of three things:
I’m bathing in irony as I sit down to write this over-due piece about bells and
whistles, but mostly bells because whistles aren’t trending RN.
Jeans and tees have never really been my thing.
“Whoever said orange was the new pink was seriously disturbed.”
This is not a post about Kayla Itsines, vegetarianism or cross fit.
Nor is this a rant about psuedo-fitness trends or a guide on how to squat.